Title: Not Happily Ever After
Author: Jay
Rating: T
Summary: 20 drabbles into the lives of Meredith and Derek. Meredith's POV.
Disclaimer: Don’t own Grey’s Anatomy
Note: So, thanks to specialfrog for suggesting I post this thing here. It took me long enough…

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I.
“I am not just loving you now.” He starts, drenched in the rain, defeat evident in his voice.

You stand a good distance away and watch in disinterest, arms folded across your chest. You have moved on, you remind yourself, and the blue eyes that beg and plead and the look on his face that breaks your heart will not break your resolve.

You have moved on.

“I may not have picked you or chose you.” He takes a cautious step forward. “But I loved you.” He hesitates before correcting himself. “Love you. Amin love with you.”

Of course, you don’t know what to say. You are a sink with an open drain. You have freaking moved on.

“No.” You take a step back and shake your head before he can continue. “No!”

You have learned to let go, you lie to yourself, and turn around and storm into the house, stomping up the steps, shaking in anger.

II.
“We’re friends.” You inform him shutting the door angrily behind you after another one his attempts at a date.

“Friends?” A flash of hurt replaced by regret. “We can’t be friends.” He tells you.

“Why not?” You demand. You’ve been friends since he chose Addison. You’ve been friends for five months since the divorce.

You can damn well be friends now that he wants you back.

You don’t expect the answer he gives because he doesn’t say anything. All you know is that in a matter of seconds you are against the wall, pinned forcefully against it, his body pressed close against yours. Tongues duel for power and hands roam into dangerous territories.

It’s hard and fast and desperate and mostly, just desperate.

When he pulls back he looks at you with those blue eyes that break your walls.

“That’s why.” He replies matter-of-factly, walking away and leaving you wanting more.

III.
There are Post-It notes everywhere. Blue, pink, yellow. You think you’ll kill him if he doesn’t stop.

I miss you. He leaves it on your car.

I’m sorry. You find this on your locker in the morning.

Forgive me. This, you are surprised to find on your beeper. It’s Alex that points it out, perplexed at the yellow paper hanging on the black contraption.

You spend the day trying to figure out how he stuck it on without your knowledge, and get irritated when you can’t reach an answer.

But, your favorite? The one that makes you wish you had a scalpel to jab into his throat? The one that makes you wish for his death and destruction? And all at once, compels you to take him back?

It’s the one you find at the end of the day when you’re utterly exhausted and you want to go home and forget the day. It’s the blue Post-It stuck on the lid of a plastic container.

Last piece of cheesecake.

IV.
“I hate you.” You say quietly. There is some truth to this statement, and he knows it too.

“Not nearly enough.” He blocks your path and keeps you from opening the door of your car. If you weren’t so tired, you would hit him with your purse. “Give me another chance, please.”

It's been a month since he began his dogged pursuit. Six months since his divorce was finalized.

“Why?” You finally ask, instead of replying your usual No.

You are not crying. You are not breaking down. It’s the rain, you lie to yourself.

It’s the damn rain so you press on. “Why should I? So you can hurt me again?” The resentment is there, more pronounced than you expected.

“No.” He shakes his head, face filling in pain. “Because…” He struggles with his words and bridges the gap that separates the two of you until his face is practically touching yours and you can feel his breath with every word.

“Because I can make you happy. Because I can protect you. Because I want to try not to hurt you. Because you love me and I love you and this is fate. This is fate so don’t fight it.”

V.
What surprises you is the ease that you fall back into the old life. That lifetime before Addison, before it was complicated.

He still knows how you like your coffee – no creamer, just a dash of sugar -, still knows how you like your steak grilled – medium, not well-done or rare. He still knows your favorite bands and plays them in his car when he’s driving you around. Knows what mood your in by the look on your face and tone of your voice.

On the weekends, you stay in his trailer and watch the mist rise off the lake during sunrise. On days off, you eat breakfast at cafes because Muesli doesn’t count as breakfast and neither does grilled cheese or cold pizza.

You do his laundry, at least the clothes he leaves at the house, when he’s at work and you have the day off. You listen in the mornings to the sound of his tone-deaf voice in the shower, smiling as he hits the chorus of “I Wanna Be Sedated.” When you have extra time at night, the two of you lounge in the living room with Izzie and George, occasionally Cristina and Alex, and watch TV. You sit, limbs entangled, arms around each other, your leg on top of his, so close that you don’t really know what belongs to who.

And, you realize, it isn't Romeo and Juliet, it isn't the greatest love story ever told. It's just nice and simple and comfortable.

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I’ll post some more tomorrow. I figure one set of five a day will be good.